


The File

by Macx



Category: Transformers Generation One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-Movie, no particular episode. Rodimus Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The File

"Here's the latest report, Rodimus."   
Rodimus took the report out of Ultra Magnus' hands, looked at it and nodded at his friend. "Thanks, Magnus," he said, voice neutral, face a mask.   
Ultra Magnus looked like he was about to say something, then only nodded in return and left. As the door closed after the city commander, Kup pushed himself away from the wall, a question written clearly over his features.   
"How did the boy take it?" he wanted to know.   
Ultra Magnus looked at the closed door, face displaying several emotions all at once. "Like Optimus," he answered softly.   
Kup sighed deeply. "That bad, eh?" he muttered, knowing the answer already.   
Magnus nodded nevertheless. "Cold, hard numbers, Kup. Nothing to interpret, nothing to see with rose colored optics."   
"I know, but he shouldn't dwell too much on it." Kup shook his head. "It won't change the numbers."   
"Of course he shouldn't, but he is. It affects him -- just like Optimus." Ultra Magnus looked at his older friend. "It affects everyone of us."   
Ultra Magnus didn't want to think about what he would feel if he were in charge, if there was no one else but him to deal with the facts.   
Kup met his optics. "Yeah, but no one as much as the leader."   
Both walked down the corridor, away from Rodimus Prime's office. Both knew what was going on inside and neither wanted to be in Rodimus' place.

*

Rodimus studied the sheet of paper Ultra Magnus had handed him and his optics were fixed on the numbers displayed there. Numbers and names. The numbers were bad enough, but the names made it nearly unbearable. He lowered the report and looked out of the window overlooking the peaceful landscape outside Autobot City. Cold facts. Names without faces. He didn't know anyone on this list, but all of them had died because of him.   
A casualty list.   
Rodimus shuddered and wished he could simply file away these facts in his mind like he filed away the report. He reached for a folder and hesitated. He hated the folder. It looked like nothing special was in it, but it was the most important folder among the whole collection. Maybe it should be colored in black, to fit its contents, but it was just a neutral gray. He opened it and was confronted with a whole collection of the dreaded papers. They dated back to the first days of the Autobots on Earth and Optimus had written down footnotes or remarks on some of those sheets. Additions to otherwise neutral facts. Rodimus hated them even more than the names because it showed that Optimus had known some of the deceased humans on a personal level. He had once read the comments and it had left him feeling empty, spent and in a catastrophic mood. Twenty years of Autobot presence on Earth, part of the history written down in this folder. The darker part of the history, something many liked to forget.   
This time there had been twenty-three dead.   
Only twenty-three, a tiny voice in his mind said. It could have been more. But it also could have been less! He felt sick to the core. This should not have happened! He had been there, he could have done something!   
The image of the crumbling building was burned into his mind, like so many other catastrophic events. This time he had not seen the bodies, but there had been times when he had seen them: mangled, broke, lifeless bodies -- and the blood.   
Rodimus felt a tremor run through his system.   
It was their blood on his hands. He was the Autobot leader, he was responsible.   
All of this should never have happened! No human should have to die in a confrontation concerning only Decepticons and Autobots, but it happened. Not on a regular basis, but it happened. They tried to get the humans to safety first before engaging the enemy, but it was impossible. The Protectobots did a hell of a good job but they couldn't be everywhere. None of them could.   
"How did you handle it, Optimus?" Rodimus asked the empty and silent office. "How could you cope with it?!"   
Of course, there was no answer. There never was. Sometimes Rodimus wished there would be an answer forthcoming, that he could talk to the deceased Autobot leader, but it was wishful thinking. Optimus had died years ago and left the burden of leadership to Hot Rod. Now he was trying to handle it as best as he could and each time he thought he had it down pat, something like this happened.   
A single sheet of paper had reminded him of what it was he had taken over.   
Twenty-three innocent lives! He didn't know any of the men, women or children, but he felt like he should. They had died for the Autobots, in a way, had suffered and given their lives. And he knew none of them! He couldn't even write a personal letter to the families, just offer his sincerest condolences.   
Empty words, he thought in disgust. They don't bring them back and they don't ease the pain.   
And he couldn't attend the funerals either. It would be inappropriate, like hitting the families into the face with the fact that their beloved had died because of the Autobots. It would be like mockery.   
We can rebuild houses and repair streets, but we can't bring back the dead! Rodimus rose out of his chair and walked over to the window, hands clasped behind his back. Curse this war! It has already cost enough in Autobot lives and now the humans suffer as well! They welcomed us on their planet and we not only destroy their homes and land, but also take their lives! All of this isn't worth it!   
Yes, it wasn't worth it, but he also couldn't change it. If the Autobots left Earth, the planet would be for the taking. And the Decepticons wouldn't hesitate to take. Then everyone would be doomed.   
And they aren't doomed now? Rodimus, get real, they are in danger every day of their lives, every hour, every minute! Next time the Decepticons show their ugly faces there will be casualties again. This time it was a Decepticon crashing into a building, next time it will be a laser blast!   
His fist connected with the wall and he dented it slightly. Rodimus gave a hiss of anger and frustration.   
This is war, the small voice told him. People die.   
Yes, people died in wars. Of course they did. And he saw how many died in this one. He had access to all the numbers, all the ended lives, all the senseless deaths. He knew there was death and he hated himself for letting it happen.   
When will it hit someone I know? When will I write personal comments beside the name? When will it be Daniel, Spike, Carly, Marissa, Raoul or any of the others? When?   
He shuddered and, unwanted, the image of Daniel, Spike and Carly popped up. Rodimus leaned heavily against the wall, staring at the folder and the single sheet not yet filed away. Disgust nearly overwhelmed him and he suddenly had the urge to get out of here, to leave the claustrophobic confines of his office. He needed space, he needed air -- he needed to get his mind on other things.   
The Autobot leader left the office and walked out of Metroplex, staring at the landscape around him, the sky above him -- Earth. He shook his head as if to clear it and transformed, driving away from Autobot City, steadily gaining speed.

Ultra Magnus stood at the window and watched Rodimus Prime drive off. Kup joined him and sighed softly.   
"Like Optimus," Ultra Magnus only said, voice dark and sad, but also full of understanding.   
Kup watched the truck as well until only a faint dust cloud told where it was. "And like Optimus he'll never talk. He'll bottle it up and chew on it, but he won't share the pain."   
"I know," Magnus sighed.   
Kup walked back into the city. Ultra Magnus remained a few moments longer, then did the same.

*

The brightly colored truck thundered down the old and empty highway, dust whirling up around him like the ghosts of the dead, following him wherever he went.......


End file.
